


That Thing

by ghostofviper



Category: All Elite Wrestling, Professional Wrestling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2019-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 06:14:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostofviper/pseuds/ghostofviper
Summary: Prompt request fulfilled for “But that’s my favorite shirt!” and “Well that’s pretty rude of you to say.”
Relationships: Matt Jackson (Professional Wrestling)/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 8





	That Thing

**Author's Note:**

> Tags: fluff, suggestive themes, sexual content

“Hey babe?” Matt Jackson called from the laundry room, frowning as he dug through his basket unable to find the one item he was looking for.

“Yes Matt?” You replied sticking your head out of the kitchen doorway. 

“Have you seen my gray shirt? It’s not in the closet or in my bin. I know it’s clean.” He said narrowing his eyes as he saw guilt flash across your face and you ducked back into the kitchen. Not letting you make your escape Matt followed you trapping you between him and the kitchen counter. 

“Y/N? Where is my shirt?” He asked, nuzzling into the crook of your neck, kissing that spot that drives you insane. 

“I…threw it away.” You mumbled into his shoulder. 

“You what?” He asked, not hearing you clearly. Matt leaned away so you would have to speak clearer. 

“I threw it away.” You admitted avoiding his eyes. 

“What!” He shouted. “But that’s my favorite shirt,” He moaned frowning as he pushed away from you. 

“I’m sorry Matt, but it was stained and threadbare and it even had holes in it. It was a piece of garbage.” You defended yourself vehemently. 

“Well, that’s pretty rude of you to say,” He pouted, his bottom lip jutting out. Your heart melted at his crestfallen expression. You knew he loved that shirt, but seriously it was disgusting. 

“I’m sorry baby. I know you loved it. But it had to go.” You reiterated. You wrapped your arms around his waist and pressed your head to his chest looking up and giving him your best puppy dog eyes. “Don’t be mad at me please,” You pled. 

He didn’t reply keeping you in his arms as he rested his head on yours. 

“What if I make it up to you?” You asked, fingertips trailing down his chest to rest at the waist band of his shorts. That caught his attention.

“I’m listening.” He said. 

“What if I give you a blow job, and then after I’ll do that thing that you really like.” You teased playfully. 

“THE thing,” He stressed.

“Yes baby THE thing. But only if you promise to not give me a hard time about your damn shirt.” You told him sternly. 

“Deal,” He said, smiling widely and spinning you around to head towards the bedroom.


End file.
